


Why Don't You Do Right

by Brokenjaw (Vrael)



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous referencing of Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Lucifer is vindictive, Married Life, Married Sex, Strip Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 05:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20989928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vrael/pseuds/Brokenjaw
Summary: Normal couples argue. Sane couples communicate. But apparently their relationship is one of contestant action and reaction, like some sort of perverted Newton’s cradle. Or hell, a cartoon.Trixie’s ‘Who Framed Roger Rabbit’ DVD was going straight into the garbage disposal.





	Why Don't You Do Right

“You didn’t.” 

“I was only trying to help.” Lucifer raised his palms in mock surrender. He put on his best smile, the one that usually let him get away with murder. It was the one that could lure saints into absolute sinnerdom. And probably the same smile that got Eve to eat the apple.

As if that would work on her.

“This is a benefit for wounded officers and their children!” Chloe should have been growling. Could have been growling. It was a testament to her patience that she wasn’t. She was close, however, to throwing her personal printer across the room.

“And what better benefit than a free venue?” Her husband breezed. “Especially one that has so kindly swooped in and saved the day after the Hilton cancelled. If anything you should be thanking me. The Lieutenant is beside himself with gratitude, and I’m pretty sure I’ve just earned us enough cookie points to cover the next century, as it were.”

Rodriguez, patient Rodriguez from the next desk over, took his cue and slipped on a pair of headphones. 

“That’s not the point, Lucifer. The Lux isn’t appropriate.”

“And why not Detective?” He quirked a brow, his megawatt smile abruptly dropped. “Open bar, plenty of seating. A stage. And a stellar view if I do say so myself.”

“You literally just hosted a seventy person orgy.”

Lucifer’s lip curled with that familiar tell-tale irritation, the kind that said he was beneath this worldly minutiae. 

“So?” 

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” The Detective sighed.

“Apparently yes.” He rounded her desk, perching on top of her paperwork like a confused and very pissed off peacock. 

She slammed her laptop shut. Apparently getting any work done today was a long forgotten pipe-dream.

“Everything about this is a bad idea. I’m pretty sure the vinyl seats are still sticky from your last rodeo. And what is your big plan here, to get everyone wasted on fireball while you swan around in Lord knows what, collecting five dollar bills in a g-string? For charity?”

Rodriguez visibility winced and turned up his volume. A hush fell over the bullpen. Her neighbors conveniently chose that exact moment to stare at their phones. 

“Are you ashamed of me, Detective? My hosting of certain sexual proclivities? I’m assuming, here, that your implication is that the Lux is a veritable cave of debauchery, utterly beneath you and your fellow officers.” Lucifer sneered, his voice taking on a vicious quality. “And please, a g-string? I would at least have the courtesy of wearing actual lingerie.”

Chloe, unmoved, sipped at her coffee.

“You could wear an entire evening gown. It doesn’t matter. My point still stands, the Lux isn’t fit to hold a charity benefit.” She said.

“It’s held many a charity benefit. Dozens of soirées. Even a gala once or twice.” Lucifer pulled himself off her desk in an inhumanly fluid movement. “But I don’t think that’s what this is about.”

“Then what is it about, Lucifer?” 

He looked at her like he couldn’t believe he married such an idiot. It stung a little.

“Well, isn’t it obvious? It’s about _me._”

Chloe rolled her eyes. Of course it was about him. Of course it was. 

But Lucifer was serious. He was looking at her now with a glimmer of hell fire in his eyes. His hands were splayed on either side of her desk - and his face was exactly level with hers.

“Do you think, for one second, I’m not absolutely devoted to you?” 

“What? No-“

“Do you think I would willingly embarrass my wife, whom I love, in front of all her beloved coworkers?”

She took a quick glance at the bullpen. 

“Well, you’re kinda doing it right now, Lucifer-“

“Or perhaps it’s something deeper than that. Are you tired of me, Detective. You find me wanting. Am I too eccentric for you? Too… dirty? Too much of a, what’s the word? Playboy?”

“No, I just-“

“And yet, and yet, I don’t see a ring on your finger.”

“Now, wait a moment-“

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed. And by the way Detective, your placard still says Decker.”

“Lucifer, you know I decided to keep my last name for a reason-“

“No I get it. The Devil is finally too much for you.”

“Would you just let me finish a damned sentence?”

He snatched her coffee off her desk, quick as a blink.

“Lucifer! My coffee!”

She was about to snatch it back, but she caught his eyes. They actually l weren’t red with fire, not like she initially assumed. It looked more like he was about to cry. Which was ridiculous. 

“That coffee is reserved for my wife.” Her husband growled.

“Lucifer, wait!”

But he was already on his way out the door, tossing her coffee cup in the bin as he did.

Chloe put her head into her hands.

“What the hell!”

* * *

Chloe hadn’t seen him for days after that. Not at the Penthouse. Not at the precinct. It seemed he needed mountains of alone time. She texted, just to make sure he was okay- but there was no response. She was left on read. At least he was reading her messages. And apparently still texting Trixie back. And still picking her up from school. And still sneaking chocolate cake into her lunch boxes.

Much to her enduring frustration.

It wasn’t until a benefit invitation showed up on her desk that she realized Lucifer was still going through with the whole thing. A crimson envelope. Thick paper, curving, lush, red script. It opened smelling like whiskey, wood and something slightly burning. The card itself was probably more expensive than her entire lunch.

She couldn’t help but forgive him a little then. Just a little bit, If only because the whole thing was so absolutely Lucifer she couldn’t help but be a little charmed by it all.

* * *

“I’ve never seen him so pissy, Decker. Not even when you two we’re making goo-goo eyes and reenacting Shakespeare.” Maze said over her whiskey glass.

Chloe arrived early to the benefit. She kinda had to. She lived upstairs. And she would be damned, literally and figuratively, if things didn’t go off without a hitch.  
She even had Trixie sleep over at Linda’s for the night. Just for a little extra insurance.

As it turned out, everything was already meticulously taken care of. Balloons were strung up into the rafters with care. Suited waiters floated by with silver trays filled to the brim with canapés. Lucifer’s entire bar staff was at the ready, dressed in their best, with fully stocked shelves behind them. There were candles and tablecloths. And hell, there was even a nine piece jazz ensemble in the corner of Lux’s stage in the process of warming up.

“That’s saying something.” Chloe knocked back her drink, and Maze slid her another within the space of a second.

“What did you do this time?”

“Does the Devil get PMS?” She knew even as she said it that the joke fell flat, but, well, whatever.

Maze snapped her gum. “Funny.”

People were beginning to filter in. Officers, their husbands, their wives, and many other people besides. Chloe was pretty sure she saw a celebrity or two, and it was all she could do not to freak out a little.

“I didn’t do anything. He thinks I’m not wearing my wedding ring, when I’ve literally been wearing it every single day.” She tugged on the delicate chain around her neck. His ring spun, the red diamond catching the light of the bar and refracting it back tenfold.

“That can’t be all it is.” Maze sneered, gesturing to the club around them. “Not for him to be this dramatic.”

She put her face in her hands. 

“I just didn’t want him to throw the benefit here.” Chloe mumbled.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s... well it’s just not… appropriate. You know? Like let’s have all our co workers show up to my house in which I can’t guarantee someone won’t find a misplaced fleshlight.”

The demon made a disgusted noise.

“This is your house. Your home. Think about it from his point of view, you get me? You live here with him, and so does Trixie. I’m pretty sure he’d want you to be proud of the fact. And proud of him. Hell, I would want that, if it was me. I’m pretty sure he thinks you’re regretting this whole marriage thing.” She paused looking at her nails. “And also he’s a very sensitive, whiny, sweet baby angel. Remember? You really know how to pick em’. 

“Ughhhh.” Chloe moaned into her elbow.

“What’s this now, man-baby marriage number two?”

Chloe moaned again. 

“Sometimes, Decker, you just have to go with it. You can’t have it all ways, all the time. He can’t be both himself and who you want him to be. He wouldn’t be doing this benefit thing if he wasn’t thinking about you in his roundabout way. You gotta meet him halfway. You gotta be a Morningstar.”

“Linda’s rubbed off on you.” Chloe accused, pulling herself upward to watch the stage. There was movement and all the house lights shifted to focus on the curtains.

“Pshh. As if.” Maze huffed. “And if you mention this to anyone I’ll stab you in the stomach and not feel bad about it.”

“And what would Eve say about it?”

“Don’t bring her into this-“

The band, following some unseen cue, suddenly began to play. It was bluesy, jazzy, and had a little bit of bombastic brass. Just enough punch to really capture the attention, without being gaudy. There was a drumroll. And then the lights, all of them, went out.

“You had plenty money 1922-“ Chloe could hear Lucifer’s voice as it carried throughout the Lux. It was butter and velvet.

A spotlight flared to life, pointing center stage.

“You let other women make a fool of you,” He continued, the cadence purring.

Crushed velvet curtains opened, and Chloe could almost make out a silhouette. The light shifted.

“Why don't you do right, like some other men do?”

And there was Lucifer. 

In a sparkling, red floor length dress. 

In purple, shimmering gloves.

And wearing a full face of makeup.

Holy shit.

“Get out of here, and get me some money too.” The Devil crooned.

Someone from the crowd wolf whistled. Lucifer shimmied his hips against a silver microphone stand. 

Holy fucking shit.

The band picked up, the base thrummed, and from across the room Lucifer’s eyes met hers. He smiled.

“You're sitting there wondering what it's all about.”

He minced in those high heels like he was born in them. Created for them.There was a slot that ran up the side, exposing a dangerous amount of leg. Completely shaved, and sweet lord he was wearing hose.

“You ain't got no money, they will put you out.”

She was so caught up in his outfit, she barely registered that he descended from the stage, the spotlight following him. The onlooking crowd parted like the Red Sea. 

“Why don't you do right, like some other men do?”

His heavy lidded gaze could have set the room on fire. And one hundred percent of it was zeroed in on her. Scarlet lips parted revealing just the edges of perfectly white teeth. Lucifer glided. He was shark and there was blood on the water.

“Get out of here and get me some money too.” He sang.

And then he was right in front of her, his hands on her lapels, straightening them. His face was close. Too close. Their noses were almost touching. The way he stared at her lips set her skin on fire.

“Get out of here and get me some money too.” 

He repeated, as if it were for her and her alone. She could almost taste him on her tongue, The smell of his aftershave was overwhelming. She was suffocating. Her body was in full revolt, and shivered before she could stop it.

“Why don’t _you do right_, like some other men do?

And then he pulled away.

“Why don’t you do right-“ He sashayed back to the stage, showcasing how perfectly the dress hugged his curves. ”like some other men do?

He looked backwards, and blew a kiss, eyelashes fluttering. Long legs climbed back up to the stage and curved themselves over a piano bench. 

Apparently, this was the perfect time for an instrumental solo.

It took an eternity to catch her breath.

Chloe couldn’t bare to look at the spotlight any longer, Her gaze caught on a waiter carrying the nearest tray. It was crammed with shots of fireball. 

And it all came crashing into focus with aching clarity.

Their argument in the precinct.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” 

Lucifer Morningstar was the master of petty retaliation. Probably the inventor, actually.

The gathered crowd was oblivious to Chloe’s frustration. All eyes were on the stage as Lucifer purred our another verse. 

The Detective once again put her head in her hands.

“Just go with it Decker!” Maze laughed.

* * *

This was what Lucifer did. He tested and prodded boundaries until he was abruptly thrown from heaven. This time, Chloe supposed, she was the one being tested. She wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or mortified.

Normal couples argue. Sane couples communicate. But apparently their relationship is one of contestant action and reaction, like some sort of perverted Newton’s cradle. Or hell, a cartoon.

Trixie’s ‘Who Framed Roger Rabbit’ DVD was going straight into the garbage disposal. First thing when she returned to the penthouse upstairs.

Chloe sighed.

Lucifer was still in the spotlight. 

Looking at him, it seemed rather obvious he lit the universe. How there was ever a point she doubted it, she would never know. Her initial ignorance defied all explanation.

He just, glowed. And the dress only accentuated it.

Even though his performance was technically over - he was still playing. He flirted with anything that had legs - she could feel the heat of his charm from the back of the house. It was thick and cloying and irresistible. Every blithe conversation was a blistering tête-à-tête. He danced on tables. Drank vodka like water. And pulled seductive faces that would make even the most hardened of old women blush.

Men pulled out their billfolds. Women tittered.

And cash donations were flowing like whiskey and wine.

Chloe would have been jealous, if she didn’t know that this entire show was for her benefit and hers alone. She could tell by just how every so often his eyes would catch on hers- hoping and daring for her to watch. But much like Maze at the back of the bar, she played the part of a disaffected audience, sipping away at her appletini as if this were just another Tuesday night.

But Lucifer, not be be ignored, ramped his performance up a notch. He shifted in the spotlight, letting his dress slink across his thighs. He ground into anyone who could still stand straight. He pulled on all the eyeballs that so much as glanced in his direction. He made sure she knew he owned the room.

The crowd circled and circled. And Lucifer got bolder. Closer. A ringmaster and lion both. He was the manager and the attraction. It was almost poetic the ease in which he directed and shuffled his languorous attentions.

There were almost kisses. Almost presses of skin. Almost scandalous slips of his dress.

And then, he was almost on top of her. The weight of his seductive charms were pressing into the balding police Sergeant only a few feet to her left.

“And what is it that your desire, dear officer?” Lucifer oozed. And she could feel it, the hooks of his desire mojo making their way to the surface. This, this was crossing a line.

Chloe squeezed her eyes shut.

Be a Morningstar, Maze said.

_Be a Morningstar_.

And what would a Morningstar do?

She reached out and grabbed his bare, glistening shoulder.

“Lucifer, enough, let the poor man go.”

The Devil turned around, all long legs and swinging hips.

“Jealous, love?”

But his eyes snagged on the pendant that hung from her neck. 

He finally, finally, saw the ring. 

Chloe couldn’t help but preen as little as jaw slackened, and his eyes became as black and soft as his eyeliner. 

“You. You didn’t take it off.”

“Of course I didn’t, doofus.” She smiled softly, pulling him close. “Think about it. We’re at crime scenes almost daily. I’m sometimes elbows deep into things I don’t even what to talk about. Did you honestly think I would want our wedding ring to be involved?”

Lucifer made a noise that could be described as half-strangled disbelief.

“Besides. I like it better this way. It’s closer to my heart. It was Trixie’s idea, really. And the fact you haven’t noticed when you’ve seen me in only my necklace brings up a few questions.”

“I-“

Chloe kissed him then. Hot, possessive, searing. She could taste the waxy cherry of his lipstick, the slippery, sugary coat of gloss. And she went deeper, her tongue almost forced its way inside his teeth, drinking him in. Her hand dug into his hair, yanking a little. Making sure it hurt, just a tiny bit. Just the way he liked.

And oh, how she missed him. The rasp of his stubble, the warmth of his skin. The smell of him, woodsy and heady. She could get drunk off his presence alone. He wasn’t heroin, like he once said - but damn if sometimes he wasn’t close.

She nipped and tugged at his lip before pulling away, ruffling his perfectly coiffed do.

Perhaps her statement wasn’t as… illustrative had Lucifer’s, but it was a statement none the less.

Her claim was made.

“It’s okay, Lucifer.” Chloe whispered in his ear. “Are you at least having fun?”

The Devil’s eyes were as round as saucers. Apparently he was speechless. Chloe surveyed the party over the rim of a fresh martini glass.

“I have to admit, I’ve never seen Lorenzo dance like that. Or even Ella for that matter.”

But Lucifer was still silent, a thread of saliva dangling from his lower lip. It occurred to her, belatedly, that she frenched him in a dress in front of all her coworkers. But Chloe found she didn’t care.

“Well, enjoy that party? It looks like Dan is about to lose a drinking contest.”

Chloe danced away into the twisting throng, swaying to the shuddering bass.

And she left her husband to stew.

* * *

After that it was a game. A chase of sorts.

The crowd was thick. Moving required skill and patience. Drunk revelers and officers alike were entwined in song, and Chloe didn’t want to accidentally bump into anyone. 

Lucifer had almost reached her several times, but on this playing field he was the one with the handicap. He shone like the star he called himself. And all eyes were on him. It was easy to linger just out of his grasp.

She almost felt bad. He was the victim of a never ending parade of five dollar bills and compliments. It was a sea of attention, and if it were Chloe she’d be gasping for air. But ever the host, he let himself be drowned, if only temporarily. 

He was always looking at her, even so. She was his lighthouse in the storm. 

She played beer pong with Dan. Danced with Ella. And even lost to an arm wrestling contest with Maze. Alcohol had her brain buzzing. All the while Lucifer’s gaze was burning a hole in the back of her neck.

Chloe couldn’t deny it felt good.

And that Lucifer looked good.

And that this entire situation, that should have been humiliating, was surprisingly, good.

It was the most fun she’d had in ages.

* * *

Hours passed and the benefit was finally winding down. The house music took on a more somber tone. Ubers were called. People stumbled. Glasses were cleared and the lights began to come up.

If there were goodbyes - they were slurred and fumbling. If half the department showed up to work tomorrow, it would be a miracle.

Chloe, if only a little more sober than the rest, began to help clean. There were more dollar notes on the ground than garbage, and she was carrying a small bucket to pluck them like an apple harvest.

“Detective.” A familiar, uncertain voice said at her back. “Can we, can we speak alone?”

The Detective turned to find Lucifer, finally standing alone. He looked a little bit of a mess, but the look in his eyes was so ardent, so apologetic, and so sincere that staring at him hurt a little.

“My dearest husband. I always have time for you.” 

Lucifer gently pulled the bucket out of her hands. 

“Don’t worry, the staff can wrap up.” He said, guiding her towards the elevator.

The ride upstairs was silent, but Chloe finally got to appreciate him up close and personal.

He was lush as a Los Angeles sunset. That last flare of rich sunlight before it faded in the west. He was both sharp, and out of focus. His cheeks were aflame with shame or blush - Chloe couldn’t quite tell. And the dress wasn’t some cheap costume, not by a long shot. It looked expensive. Custom made even. 

Her husband cut a figure like a razor blade. 

But there was something brittle there too. He wouldn’t quite look at her back, and the set of his jaw wavered- like a guitar chord.

The elevator dinged and they spilled into the empty, echoing penthouse. Chloe didn’t bother with the lights. She didn’t need any. All the light she needed she pulled straight into her arms.

“C’mere.” She said.

He melted into her embrace. Fabric, and muscle, and skin, and bone.

It was as if they had never fought at all.

“I’ve made you the embarrassment of the entire department it seems.” He said after a while. “Like you thought I would.” 

It was a Lucifer apology if she had ever heard one.

She accepted.

“Are you kidding me?” She ran a hand through his hair. “You’re gorgeous. How much money did you raise? I bet you hit six figures, easy.”

“Yours is the only figure I want to hit, Detective.”

“Ugh.” Chloe groaned. You’re so cheesy, you know that? I can’t believe you managed to seduce half of LA’s population with that nonsense.”

“Half? Seventy-five percent at least. Give me some credit.”

Chloe could help but laugh. It was more of a bark, considering how many drinks deep she was. But, well- whatever.

And something in Lucifer’s carefully crafted facade crumbled further.

“I missed you.” He said into her shoulder. “I missed you so much.”

“Were you worried I wouldn’t come. After all this effort?” She said, pulling him tighter.

His breath hitched, she could feel the stiffness in his spine.

“Listen Lucifer. I love you.” She said. “Even if I’ve been doing a terrible job of showing it lately. I am always, always so very proud of you and the life we have together. Even if sometimes I’m a bit of a stick in the mud with too many sensible brown shoes.”

He snorted, but nuzzled into her shoulder. She pretended she couldn’t feel the dampness of his eyes. Her hand rubbed circles between his bare shoulder blades. A groan buried itself in her bones.

The tenor changed.

Lucifer’s mouth was wet and hot at the edge of her collar. As he mouthed her jugular, she was keenly reminded of the bruises he left there a week prior- still tender, and slowly fading to green. One of his palms made its way up her back, tracing a path of warmth and softness. She could feel that he was already hard.

He pressed into her. He was a man dying of thirst and she was water in the middle of the Mojave. 

The world shattered like glass beneath his fingertips- satin catching and dragging. His touch burned, it always burned. And it had nothing to do with him being the Devil. 

She caught his hands, both of them, clever fingers and all - and gathered them above his head. He was a lean line pressed against the wall. Muscles carved, etched, and cascaded in the sweetest of reliefs in the half-light of the bar. He was both coiled and strung out, pulled taut by her grip and his own desire. Lucifer’s dress scattered light like starfall and spacedust. A shifting, spangled riot. His breath puffed hotly against her clavicle, and her free hand ran, ever so slowly up the planes of his thigh. 

“Detective-”

Chloe snapped his garter belt and the noise he made was pure sin and anguish. 

“Are these for me?” She let her voice sink like teeth into his skin. Her fingernails dusted over silk and what felt like frilly lace, exploring the edge of his panties and the sharp, divoted curve of his hip.

“The Devil never does anything by halves darling.” Lucifer husked. Chloe’s hand moved beneath his navel, drifting below the straining elastic. “B-but I did hope that you would like them.”

“Hmmm.” She purred against his stubbled cheek. “Were you expecting to get lucky tonight?”

“No. But, well, I had hoped at least-”

“That the Devil would play his cards right?”

“No, that his wife would eventually forgive him-” He breathed out, a great shuddering breath. “for his eccentricities.”

Chloe swallowed. That was Lucifer for you. Acting out for attention, throwing a tantrum, and all the while begging to be told he was good enough. 

“There’s nothing to forgive.” She could almost taste the salty tang of his sweat slicked neck. Her teeth grazed his pulse. “There is no part of you that isn’t worth loving, Lucifer. Scars, wings, kinks, dildos and dresses. Whatever you are, whatever you want to be, you are mine. And I really do love you. For always and forever.” She reached lower, the pads of her fingers just about touching his length.

The sound that escaped Lucifer’s throat was positively choked.

“But next time, before you invite all of our coworkers to the Lux for a benefit, I wish you would ask me first. I’d like to have some input on whom we invite into our home and when. Including the seventy piece orgies. Remember I live here, and so does Trixie. I know you’re careful, but I just need to feel like I have some control. You know?” 

“Point taken.” Lucifer said, his gaze just a tad watery, his breath hitched. “Although-”

“Your den of iniquity isn't HR compliant, Lucifer.”

“Our den of iniquity, Detective.” He corrected. “Oh and Dad forbid HR be involved.”

“McMurray found a strap-on between some cushions.”

“Good for him. He could use-“ Lucifer groaned as Chloe chose that exact moment to wrap her fingers around his cock. “a little spring in his step.”

She laughed softly into his mouth. He hungered, swallowing her laughter, bucking into whatever she deigned to give. Her palm dragged almost imperceptibly slow. 

“Chloe-“ He twisted in desperation; almost cat-like for all his sinuousness. 

They both knew he could take whatever he wanted, they both knew he could break free of her hold at any time. But that was the point. Free will. 

Chloe almost took pity on him. 

Almost.

“You’re wearing a little bit too much right now, don’t you think?” She said, slowly pulling away. Lucifer chased her like she was the moon and he was trapped in her orbit.

“Far be it from me to be overdressed the occasion.”

“You’re always overdressed.” Except at select, inconvenient moments when he wasn’t. “But I like it.”

“I’ll make a note of it.” He leaned in for another kiss, his mascaraed eyelashes fluttering oh so prettily- but Chloe dodged at the last second, twisting to grab one of the open whiskey bottles at the bar. She plucked it, like one would pluck a favored flower and then sashayed to a leather couch.

“Go on.” She said, perching herself on the corner of a cushion.

It took a moment for Lucifer’s brain to kickstart, she could tell. His hands clutched the empty air at his sides - looking for all the world a lost puppy, but slowly it dawned on him. And his smile, oh his smile, cut like a knife in the dark.

“A strip tease, is it then, love?”

Chloe matched his sharpened grin with one of her own.

“Just because I forgive you doesn’t mean I’m not owed some damages.” She took a pull straight from the bottle.“ Especially for that thing you did with your tongue at Dan. A little bit of restitution is in order.”

“Let it not be said the Devil doesn’t pay his debts.”

Chloe leaned back expectantly, a silent command to start the show. 

“Impress me.” She mouthed.

“With pleasure.”

A gloved hand reached beneath the bartop and a button clicked. The bluesy music from earlier blared from every corner of the penthouse.

“You are not doing a strip tease to that awful Roger Rabbit song.” Chloe called.

“I’m afraid I am, Detective.” He tried to pull on his most seductive face, his patented smoulder, but the effect was comical given the circumstances. Chloe folded her arms just to keep her laughter contained in her chest. But Lucifer, only quirked an eyebrow, refusing to be intimidated.

He started with his gloves, unsurprisingly, his hips swinging with the slow rhythm. She watched as his teeth snagged on the satin covering his index finger. The violet-black fabric rippled across the muscles of his forearm, slipping like water to slowly reveal the perfect expanse of tanned skin underneath. His eyes caught hers and his smile cut upwards a tick, like he had already won a point in his favor. 

Chloe yawned to hide her blush.

Lucifer’s brow twisted in what looked to be mild confusion. Yes, dear - Chloe almost said, you’re going to have to work a little harder than that.

But he wasn’t discouraged, not by a long shot. His glove puddled on the ground and the other one slipped not long behind it - removed faster by both tooth and tongue. He was closer, now. His eyes flickered like open flame and his tongue swiped at the moisture in his lips as if still savoring the taste of her. One of his arms twisted upwards, reaching behind his back as his hips shimmied low. The clacking of his heels steadied to the beat. He straightened slowly, thighs pulling him upwards in a way that was almost straight up pornographic. His dress loosened and then fell away to join the gloves on the floor.

Beneath it all was his chiseled chest, the one that doubtlessly inspired the David, the Sistine chapel, and a litany of other masterpieces she couldn’t even name. Perfect pectorals, gently sloping shoulders, and sculpted stomach she wanted so, so badly just to sink her teeth into. All of him was slick and shimmering with sweat. But what got her attention, what really got her attention was what he was still wearing.

Stockings highlighted the contours of his legs, turning art into poetry. The heels he was still wearing made his ass all the more extraordinary, to a dangerously impossible degree. A dark gossamer garter belt slung itself low across his hips, accentuating the muscled V that cut straight down to his lingerie. And, sweet Jesus, his lingerie. His panties were a confection of black lace, and blacker silk barely holding in Lucifer’s straining cock. They were magnificent, expensive looking, and utterly in the way.

To top it off, Lucifer, show-boat that he was, was even wearing a pair of ridiculous pasties. A pair of black and upside down five-pointed stars. 

Chloe would have laughed if she didn’t have to swallow from salivating so profusely. What was more outrageous, even, was that getting harder and harder to register the stylings of Peggy Lee that still sang onward in the background. Everything was whittling down to a singular focal point - against all sense and personal pride.

She adjusted her thighs in a desperate attempt to quell the heat between her legs and hide her aching wetness. It was all too much all of the sudden. All  
of it. The lipstick, the eyeliner, his outfit, and his burning gaze he had all crafted just for her. Even the ridiculousness of it all.

And Lucifer noticed.

“Not so boring now, am I?” He leered, his lips curling deliciously. “Still feeling tired, love? Are you sure you don’t want to call it an early night and pop off to bed?”

He stalked the rest of the way to the couch. Lean thighs straddled her own, and corded arms playfully came up around her shoulders - pressing her down and down into the cushions. Her lap was filled to the brim with the Devil, his erection rubbing against her lower belly.

“I’m sure I could provide you a nightcap.” He purred, writhing for friction. His abdominal muscles flexed in a way that was absolutely dirty.

“You’re too much.” Chloe gasped breathlessly. “You really are.”

“That’s never a bad thing my darling Detective.” He pulled the whiskey bottle from her hand and took a mouthful. “More is, well, more. And I have plenty.”

Chloe moaned up into his mouth, catching his lower lip. Her own hands moved to the column of his neck. She couldn’t quite hear the noises he was making- but she could feel them vibrating into her palms. Urgency began to guide her actions. She pushed and pushed until suddenly she found herself on top, with Lucifer quite beneath her with his back against the pillows.

Her looked up at her like she was the angel here, and not him. Like she was the one who should be saying “be not afraid” and all that it entailed. Awe encompassed his features. Awe and lust and reverence. There was an innocence still there under all the posturing and slightly smeared make-up. And somehow Chloe had to make herself worthy.

His knuckle gently brushed away a strand of hair away from her face. Lucifer’s own hair was an endearingly sexy mess, but Chloe strategically chose not to comment.

“I take it you’re suitably impressed.” He rumbled. 

“Oh, very.” She leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose, her chest heaving. Lucifer’s hand came up to cradle her chin. 

“And now look who’s overdressed,” He pointed out.“As sexy as that practical beige outfit is. I think it’s a little too warm in here for that, don’t you?”

For a brief moment they were a jumble of elbows and knees. Chloe fumbled with her sensible brown belt and her sensible brown shoes. And Lucifer in all his eagerness made it less than quick. He attacked any stretch of fresh skin almost as soon as it was revealed. His lips and fingers worshipping every inch they could reach. Chaos reigned until finally, after what felt like hours, Chloe was left in just her underwear. Her bra was hooked on a nearby lamp, while her suit jacket, blouse and pants took up residence in various corners of the apartment.

If they weren’t married, she would have felt a little self conscious about her little white cotton Hanes. But there were no returns here, and the look in Lucifer’s eyes said that the last thing he wanted was a refund. Eager hands swiped across her breasts, painting worlds of desire with their touch.

Chloe bit her lip and stared at his garter belt. The whole thing looked a little overly complicated at this point. Her head was heavy with alcohol and lust. She couldn’t be trusted with anything more complex than a zipper.

But Lucifer read her mind.

“Darling, allow me.” He hummed. “I’ll take it from here.”

He shuffled her Hanes down her hips, shifting them ever so slowly past her knees. Her whitey tighties were tossed unceremoniously across the room to join the rest of her forgotten clothes. His hand dipped down into her core like he owned the place. And perhaps he did. Chloe moaned as his digits slicked between her folds, teasing, testing. She ground into his palm shamelessly.

“Why, Detective-“ Lucifer purred. “I think you liked my outfit more than you let on.”

“I like what’s under it- more.” She stuttered out through her teeth.

Lucifer brought two fingers to his lips. Tasting her like he would have tasted honey from the farmers market. His expression shifted to something close to rapture.

“Minx.” He said. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“It’s not getting me in your panties,” Chloe huffed.

“My, my, someone’s impatient.”

Chloe rolled her eyes.

“Here, Detective.” And he literally pushed his lingerie to the side. Like it was nothing. His cock sprang free with ease. Chloe would have been a little irritated if not for the fact Lucifer let out a pained hiss. Apparently, he was just as desperate as she was. All flushed and purple-ing.

“Cheater.” She accused instead.

His erection pressed wantonly against her hip.

“I’m the Devil. No one ever accused me of playing fair- oh.”

In a singular, fluid movement she mounted him. Borne of skill, and practice. She knew him like a sailor knew the ocean. Every angle, his length. His size. Her resistance. And her hips were so hungry that sinking downward was a simple, aching chord. Her brain buzzed with static, but it was Lucifer who suddenly looked worse for the wear. 

His mouth was slack. His eyes were black and burning.

“What’s that about playing fair? Hmm?” Chloe laughed, and she felt it to her spine.

“Must have slipped my mind.” He bucked into her, effectively ending any coherent thought she had left. 

Silk and lace scraped her pubic bone as they both found their rhythm. Skin catching and rasping and climbing. Hands fumbling across vast expanses that they both knew by heart. They chased each other across their own dark universe. Pleasure was a song they sang together in the velvet dark of the penthouse. 

This was home. This was always home. And no matter how they might fight, or whinge, or banter. This was theirs. Immutable and immovable as the stars themselves.

Lucifer picked up speed. His desperation was outpacing hers. They wouldn’t last long, not this go around. He was teeth and tongue, and great bellowing breaths- but his nimble fingers wouldn’t allow her to be forgotten. A thumb stroked her clit, while the others coaxed her higher to new heights.

The static between her ears was a roar.

“Chloe.” Her husband whispered against her neck. “My Chloe.”

And then something inside of her broke itself free. Tight and loose and painful and beautiful. All at once.

She shuddered quietly as she came, her forehead pressing against Lucifer’s. And she didn’t see white, or light, or darkness. No, all she saw was her husband. Broken, beautiful and whole.

His breath ghosted across her cheek as he followed not long after, hotly spilling inside her. She clenched, wringing out every inch of his orgasm until they both stuttered to a halt.

But Chloe couldn’t bring herself to come back down. Not yet. Not yet. She still wanted him close, she still wanted him inside her. She wasn’t ready to feel empty again, so she shifted making herself a little more comfortable in the cradle of Lucifer’s hips.

He didn’t seem to mind, not in the least. He adjusted, the same as her, humming in contentment.

Time began to drift in the afterglow.

Chloe’s necklace, ring and all, had pooled and finally came to rest between her breasts, no longer swinging with their nocturnal exertions. No longer heaving with her shuddering breath. It caught the half light and bled it back out as gold. And her husband, transfixed, used it to pull her gently down for a kiss.

It was sweet. So sweet it made her teeth ache. 

This man had absolutely, without a doubt, ruined her.

“Chloe.” He said against her jaw, panting. “You are quite literally the light of my life. The world is so dark without you. And I’m sorry that tonight I tried to make you feel like you were ever anything less.”

“And I’m sorry I made you feel like I was ashamed of you. That will never, ever be the case. I love you, so, so much.”

“And I love you, Detective. More than words can possibly say.”

“Then I suppose we’ll just have to make do with being married, huh?”

“I suppose we shall.”

* * *

“Why don’t you do right, like some other men dooo...“ 

Lucifer was crooning from somewhere deep in the kitchen. Every so often the melody was punctuated by the clang of a pan, or the slam of a cabinet swinging shut. His acapella stylings were almost haunting in a way - a sweet mournful echo bereft of a piano. Chloe would have almost guessed he was feeling melancholy, if not for how thoroughly they had fucked the night before.

He was making breakfast once again, like he did every day. It was almost a ritual of sorts- and he outright refused her participation. She almost wished he lingered this morning. Maybe for round two. Maybe for a cuddle. But from the way her empty stomach complained, she supposed that this was an equally acceptable outcome.

It was morning, if the LA sunlight was to be believed. It streamed into the room, thick and cloying as syrup.  
Chloe shifted in the sheets, stretching out her delightfully sore and aching muscles. She twisted her spine and something popped. Ugh.

“Don’t forget we have to pick up dear Beatrice at noon!” Lucifer called from the kitchen, somehow knowing she was awake. Supernatural hearing, if she could guess.

“I’m up! I’m up! I’m up!” Chloe said, more for her benefit than his.

“Breakfast will be ready in ten.” Lucifer sing-songed.

“Yes dear.”

It was all very domestic, and Chloe couldn’t resist a bit of sarcasm to point it out. But it wasn’t like Lucifer cared at this point. He had fallen face first into married life, like Trixie would with a chocolate cake. Any lingering angst about it had been well past spent on monopoly shoes, face paint, and bake sales.

It took every inch of her will to pull herself out of bed, but pull she did. She found her bra on the lamp - but the rest of her clothes would take a bit of digging. She suspected Lucifer already threw them in the hamper and kept the bra out for shits and giggles.

She noticed his dress was hung on the door to the bathroom. It looked a little rumpled in the morning light, but it was still beautiful. Still sparkling. She grabbed it, and, on a whim, she slipped it on. It felt like a glove against her skin, and the glitter winked and danced just the same as if she were Lucifer. She knew this wasn’t appropriate day wear, but where was the harm in dreaming?

Chloe checked the mirror and examined her reflection. A woman stared back, with bright blue eyes, and the faintest beginnings of crows feet. Her face was older than she would have liked, and she was far more tired looking than what she would have expected.

But the dress, surprisingly, fit. The material was stretchy - and it was, after all, strapless. It hugged her curves, and more importantly, it smelled like Lucifer. She was bathed in his woodsy cologne, and his sweat that smelled like ozone. 

Chloe quickly brushed out her hair into gentle waves, having no patience for a ponytail this morning. Besides, she knew Lucifer preferred her hair down. After a quick application of lipstick and a swipe of mascara she was almost ready. Or at least almost ready for breakfast. Time would tell if a shower was in the cards this morning.

She could still hear Lucifer singing, it faint and echoing. Her gaze drifted.

And when Chloe looked back in the mirror, she liked what she saw. It was a blue eyed woman, a little older than she would have liked yes, and more tired than expected- but a blue eyed woman in love.

* * *

Chloe padded barefoot into the kitchen. Lucifer had finished his soulful rendition and moved onward to to humming. The tune was bright and sweet, but remained unnamed in her head. It swooped and wove perfectly, without rhythm or sense. A melody that didn’t have a boundary.

She could just about make out her husband’s shimmying shape as he went digging through the sizable pantry.

He was so cheerful it made her heart heart.

Pulling out a chair, she glanced over at the refrigerator, what used to be a sleek modern monstrosity of chrome was now liberally coated in Trixie’s artwork and her assorted polaroids. The little pink camera was a Christmas gift from Lucifer, but the photos were all gifts from her daughter. Most of them depicted them as a family. Everything from water skiing to Disneyland. 

“Coffee’s on the burner.” Lucifer called - and her husband, the Devil himself, came back out with two onions, and what looked like a leek.

He was wearing an apron, delicately and lovingly embroidered with the words: “May I Suggest the Sausage?” With a large hand beneath, pointing downwards. A gift from Maze, probably. Or maybe Eve, given she was the more considerate of the two,  
But underneath the apron he was positively naked. When Lucifer turned around to flick off the stove burner, she got a perfect and unimpeded view of his ass.

“‘Morning Detective.” He said and his eyes caught hers. He then took in the dress, his gaze turning into something more akin to flame. His eyes caught on the spangles of his dress.

He still had some remnants of lipstick on, smeared into a red and bleeding edge at the corner of his mouth. Mascara congealed into what some people politely called bedroom eyes - but the effect was more on the side of a little racoonish. But the look he gave her was something so heartbreakingly lovely, so unbearably soft, that the ruined makeup was just an afterthought.

“How are you feeling this morning darling?” Lucifer placed an omelette in front of her, oozing with cheese and crowded by hash browns.

She toyed briefly with the ring on her necklace. Her smile, shy and soft and unguarded. The smile she reserved for her husband and her husband alone. The one that made him light up like the sun that he himself had hung up in the sky.

“Like a Morningstar.” Chloe said.

**Author's Note:**

> Believe it or not this was inspired by Dress - Sylvan Esso. At first this wasn't an ode to Jessica Rabbit, but let's be honest for a second. Its very LA the whole "Who Framed Roger Rabbit' movie. And hey, we do have a detective. And a 'femme' fatale. 
> 
> This fic was probably too long, written too fast, and overly self indulgent but here the hell I am, back at it again with the weird shit y'all. Enjoy!
> 
> Catch me at https://brokenjaw.tumblr.com/


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